


Never a moment alone

by ill_cover_you



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-10 03:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21467680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ill_cover_you/pseuds/ill_cover_you
Summary: Jeeves and Wooster must go to Ditteredge Hall for Honoria Glossop's wedding. But coming straight from their honeymoon how will they cope pretending to be nothing more than gentleman and valet? And will they ever get a moment alone?
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	1. Pauline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inmydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmydreams/gifts).

**Jeeves POV**

The companionable, if rather strained, silence came to a close as Bertram pulled the car into a passing point on a quiet road. We looked at one another, knowing that the dreaded moment had arrived and yet each reluctant to make the first, inevitable move. For the first time since we held our own form of a marriage ceremony and disappeared to the south of France for a honeymoon of sorts, we were to be thrown in the company of others. To avoid detection we would have to perfect our previous roles of gentleman and valet, while hiding that of our new partnership as husbands. Such a relationship if found out would ruin my new husband forever and I would not allow it. I determinedly made the first move and took my wedding ring from my finger.

“I say old thing, it’s not too late. We can give the whole thing a miss and toddle off to the metrop.” Bertram aimed for a light tone, but I could catch the pleading look in his eyes. This was a conversation that had already taken place several times.

“It would not be prudent my love. You are expected to attend Miss Glossop’s wedding. To avoid it would cause unnecessary suspicion and we must at all costs avoid people asking questions.”

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t eat so much fish.” Bertram muttered taking off his own ring. I blushed slightly, still little used to the amount of easy praise Bertram so easily offers me. I find it hard to express my emotions- a trait which is eminently appropriate for my profession, but unwise in a marriage.

“What should we do with these?” Bertram asked and I produced the chains I had bought particularly for this purpose. Since we had pledged ourselves to one another Bertram had insisted that what’s his is mine. My feudal spirit protested such a change in circumstance, but I knew it gave him pleasure to have this aspect of a married life, as we could not have a full legal wedding. Though I used the money little for myself, it gave me pleasure to buy Bertram items I could not previously have afforded.

“We can wear the rings in chains around our necks. Then even if nobody else can see, we will be reminded of our union”

“What a corker of an idea!” Bertram exclaimed reaching eagerly for the chain and dropping his ring in the process. Fortunately my years in the engagement of my young master had honed my reflexes and I caught the ring before it could fall to the ground. Deftly I attached it to the chain and fastened it around his neck before he did the same for me. It reminded me of our wedding and the care we had taken as we placed the rings on each other’s fingers.

“So this is it.” Bertram said softly. “Back to our roles.”

“Yes, Sir” I replied noticing the crease in my master’s forehead as I reverted to my previous style of address.

“I suppose I better call you Jeeves now”

“And I will call you…”

“BERTIE”

We flinched at the loud cry as a car came quickly round the bend in the road. I discreetly placed the map on my knee as Miss Stoker drove around the corner. I did not wish her to question why we had parked on a quiet stretch of road.

“What-ho Pauline!” Ber—Mr Wooster I told myself sharply- replied, sounding impressively calm.

“Are you heading to the wedding too?”

“Oh, rather” I moved the map gently to catch his attention and my master quickly caught on to my scheme. “At least as soon as we find the dratted hall”.

“Chuffy and I have been to Ditteredge Hall before” Pauline called back. “Come with me and your man can follow us.”

Mr Wooster looked at me, but I couldn’t think of one good reason for him to refuse. Still it irked that our final moments alone before arriving at the busy hall should be so quickly cut to an end.

“Right-ho then” Mr Wooster called and gave me a small sorrowful smile as I moved to take his place in the driver’s seat. Then he was away with Pauline and we would have to keep our physical and emotional distance as much as possible until we could be by ourselves again.


	2. Stinker

** Wooster POV **

I sought sanctuary in my room, wincing at the pain in my shoulder. A Wooster should be many things, but the punching bag of an overly excited bride to be was not one of them. I imagine even my Agincourt ancestor had come out of battle less wounded than I did a brief encounter with a Honoria.

The afternoon had been one of plentiful 'what hos' and 'how do you dos' but lacking in any substance, like a trifle without the sponge. If a sponge provides the structure. I've never actually made said trifle, but I imagine it's the sort of thing that wouldn’t work. I'll have to ask Reg. Speaking of said amour, that's the absence that was really felt this afternoon. I may not be the brightest chap, but after Jeeves my friends seem like positive haddocks in the conversation department.

So it was difficult not to run forth to the Wooster assigned rooms instead of a seemly stroll. It was a longish distance too as I have been widely regarded as mentally lacking in Glossop circles since the cat incident. No doubt they were saving the best rooms for those not apt to sleep behind sofas.

On opening the door I felt my breath catch as I took in Reg hanging up some jackets. The scene was so bally domestic and after playing the merry bachelor for a few hours it was spiffing to return to our easy companionship. Reg has a way of hanging a jacket that can make everything feel rosy and homelike.

"I say Reg" he gave me his stuffed frog look, "we're alone, blast it" the frog turned to a sheep on a hillside cough. "Jeeves" I corrected reluctantly.

"Anyone could be passing or enter suddenly Sir" Jeeves warned, but I was warmed by the reluctance in his voice.

"How are you settling in Jeeves?" I asked. "Have they put you in some backwater too?"

"The house is considerably busy at present. I am sharing a room with Mr Glossop's valet"

"Tough luck" I replied knowing how much Jeeves values his quiet.

"Mr Roberts is a valued member of the Ganemeyde club, but I do profess a propensity for solitude." he blushed slightly "for the most part".

"I share the sentiment" I replied, not looking forward to our first night apart. The smallish room seemed considerably larger knowing I would be here alone.

We shared a sympathetic smile, before Jeeves switched back into valet mode to prepare me for dinner. Since our understanding I had offered to dress myself, but Jeeves has great professional pride and would not allow even marriage to interfere with his views on appropriate tie colours. But it had been a while since he had dressed me so impersonally without using it as an opportunity for a caress. I leaned into the touch as much as I wanted to shrink from the charade.

"Sir, your shoulder" Jeeves whispered as he removed my shirt.

"Just an overenthusiastic Glossop" I reassured him.

"The future Mrs Eggleston, I presume" Jeeves asked as he bunged me in an evening shirt.

"The very same. Dashed odd to think of her not being a Glossop though." I mused.

"Such is often the case." I could tell from Jeeves eyes that his thoughts had gone maudlin. I raised my eyebrows until he continued. Apparently the look reminds him of a fish and he's always quick to speak to stop the look.

"We will not be sharing a surname sir". He whispered and dash it if that wasn't a blow in the solar plexis region.

"I don't know if I've got the brains to be a Jeeves" I tried to lighten the mood.

"I don't think I could live up to the code of the Woosters" he returned.

"There's always the trusted double barrel. Do you prefer Wooster-Jeeves or Jeeves-Wooster? Though by the time you've got through that introduction the other party's probably biffed off"

"Quite Sir"

"I say!" I exclaimed as a corker of an idea came to me. "We combine our names. We could be 'Weeves'. It would be such a Wheeze!"

I counted the minuscule raise of his lip as a guffaw at my word play.

"Or Jooster." My brainy man replied, which was certainly the better suggestion.

"Mr and Mr Jooster" I tried out, my hand drifting to the ring under my shirt. Then it dropped away as if scalded when there was a knock at the door.

Jeeves stepped towards it, but before he could reach it the door flew open and deposited a Stinker Pinker on the floor. He regained his footing with the ease of a man who fell as much as walked and declined Jeeves' offer of brandy.

"Bertie, are you free tomorrow? Stephanie needs to talk to you."

"And good evening to you too Stinker" I replied, rather pipped at the lack of pleasantries. Not to mention feeling a certain chill at his words.

"Is she not here this evening?" I asked while Jeeves stepped forward to brush Stinker’s evening jacket clean.

"Yes, but this is private". The chill turned sub-zero. "She has something she wants you to do" There were positive icicles down my spine. "We'll have a game of croquet tomorrow morning and tell you then."

The dinner gong saved me from an immediate response and I looked at Jeeves much like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He gave a reassuring nod and suddenly I felt much better. Whatever the likes of Stiffy and Stinker had planned, they would be no match for the Jeevsian intellect. And with that thought I followed Stinker to the Dining Room. He only slipped on one stair.


	3. Roberts

The sun warmed my skin as I reclined in my chair with a book of philosophy. Inside the cottage I could hear Bertram playing some popular music on the piano, his light voice showing his contented mood. Earlier he had prepared luncheon for us both, eager to ensure that I could relax on our honeymoon. Whilst I had protested my enjoyment of culinary preparation, he would not be moved on the matter and so we had dined to a simple meal of sandwiches. I hoped he would allow me to see to our dinner or else we would need to visit the village shop for replacement ingredients, as he often took several attempts at a recipe. Still I found his desire to share the workload endearing and I was loathe to disappoint him.

It had been a week since we arrived at the cottage, but the simple routine we found ourselves in gave an illusion of permanence. Despite our different characters Bertram and I are incredibly well suited and the opportunity to spend time together as equal and intimate acquaintances was a delight. Bertram has been teaching me to play some more jazz music on the piano with him, while I have been reading him some poetry which reminds me of our love. All in all this is what life should be like.

The change in music from within the house alerts me that Bertram has noticed my distraction from my book. A few false notes creep into the classical tune he is now playing- a style he is not partial to, but that he plays for my enjoyment. It is touching that he perseveres with this piece for my benefit and I move into the drawing room to give him my full attention. The twinkle in his eye shows me that this was his motive from the start.

“Ah Reg, just in time to turn the page for me”. He smiles at me and as I come closer I notice he still has a few bars left. I take the moment to relish in his presence and am slightly late in turning the page. The smile on my love’s face shows me that he noticed my error and is flattered by my attention to him. 

“Blast it!” The moment is broken by a particularly off note and Bertram stops playing in frustration.

“You are improving rapidly” I reassure him and then reach over to take his hand and place it the correct chord, “I believe if you remember the previous note is sharp, your positioning will be accurate”.

Bertram gestured for me to join him sitting on his right at the piano stool. “And the left hand?” He asked, his face a picture of innocence. 

“I believe the left hand should be something like this”. I replied matching his polite tone and reaching my arm around him as had clearly been his design from the start. Yet in truth my musical knowledge was far surpassed by my husband’s and I had little idea what the left hand was meant to be doing. The chord I managed to play was shocking in its clash of notes and caused Bertram to lose his innocent mask and laugh. 

There is something about his genuine, carefree laugh that never fails to take my breath away and as Bertram caught my eye I was sure that he recognised the new tension in the room.

“My love” I whispered, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He smiled at me, then wrapped his arms around me before parting his lips and…snoring?

The sudden noise startled me from my sleep and I had momentary confusion as I found myself in a cold dark room. The mattress with harder than that which I am accustomed and the blanket thinner. The dreadful snoring was coming from my left where another valet was fast asleep. I wasn’t on my honeymoon. I was in the servants’ quarters of Ditteredge Hall and my husband was a floor beneath me in a guest bedroom. My fingers reached up to touch by wedding ring through my nightclothes, it’s physicality providing reassurance that this was a passing state of affairs. A few more days and I would be sleeping at my husband’s side where I belonged. I closed my eyes once more and tried to lose myself to sleep and a return to my beautiful dream. But sleep was to allude me.


End file.
